


say the word and we go

by yutavlys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Introspection, M/M, Pining, set in 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutavlys/pseuds/yutavlys
Summary: “I smelled his neck today,” Mark mutters quietly, eyes shut. Even though he can’t see Doyoung’s face, the pausing of music and following silence says it all.Doyoung stifles a snort. “Why hisneck?”
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	say the word and we go

Laying in the darkness of his room, Mark stares up at the ceiling as he listens through the walls to Johnny singing in the shower. Taeyong’s laughter bubbles up from the living room, probably from a show he’s watching on his iPad, and Doyoung is talking loudly on the phone with his mother in the kitchen.

It’s moments like these where something aches in Mark’s chest, and he’s just incredibly _tired_. Of all the different stages and the company vans and the radio shows and the questions. If he could stay in limbo like this forever, he would.

Suddenly, harsh light from the hallway spills into the room, followed by the bedroom light flickering on as Doyoung shuffles in. He’s nearing the end of his conversation with an _alright alright love you mom_ before he sees Mark curled up in bed.

“Oh! Sorry, are you sleeping already?”

He turns over to his side to see Doyoung picking up day-old laundry (probably Mark’s) and plopping it in the laundry basket in the corner of the room.

“Not yet. How's your mom doing?”

“She's okay, except she was a little sick earlier this week, but getting better,” Doyoung muses. He flops down onto his own bed and starts scrolling through his phone while a song from a newly debuted girl group plays softly from the speakers.

There’s a lull in the room before Mark speaks up.

“I smelled his neck today,” Mark mutters quietly, eyes shut. Even though he can’t see Doyoung’s face, the pausing of music and following silence says it all.

Doyoung stifles a snort. “Why his _neck_?”

“It was during filming, and he just– I don’t know.” Mark opens his eyes to give Doyoung a concerned look. “Is that weird?”

“What? The neck sniffing or because it was Johnny-hyung?”

Mark frowns. “I don't know,” he repeats.

He really doesn’t. Doyoung only comforts him with reassuring words and frantic petting before he goes off on a tangent about what new scent of cologne he should try out. _Marc Jacobs or Burberry, Mark-yah?_

By then, Johnny has come out of the shower, still murmuring whatever song he was singing earlier as he passes by their half-open door. Mark hears him ask Taeyong what show he was watching, and somehow Taeil is with them as well because soon there’s muffled laughter drifting from the living room.

Suddenly, Mark feels so _sad_.

“Actually, hyung, I'm going to sleep now.” He rolls over to his side and brings the covers over his head.

“Ah, okay, I'll turn off the lights for you.” Doyoung stands up to shut off the main room light and flips on a small desk light, casting a warm glow over them as he stays up for a little longer on his phone.

Mark ends up sleeping miserably.

“Hey,” Taeyong begins. “If you ever feel too overworked, don’t hesitate to let me or the managers know, and we can figure something out.”

Mark nods, only half-listening because, on the other side of the table, Johnny is asking Sicheng how to say ‘Spain’ in Mandarin. When his response is _xibanya_ , Donghyuck laughs like a maniacal child, bits of food spraying onto the table. Taeyong’s mouth parted open to scold them, but not before focusing back on Mark.

“Anyway, whatever you do, we’re always here to support you,” Taeyong reassures gently, eyes turning upward. They then narrowed as he yelled, “Hyuck-ah, don’t chew with your mouth open!”

“I can’t, I’m _laughing_ ,” Donghyuck defends before dissolving into screeches once again as Sicheng looks to Jaehyun in confusion and repeats himself.

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Youngho-yah, stop teasing our members.”

“I’m sorry, I had to– Kun told me about it,” Johnny grins, hand covering his mouth.

Upon noticing Mark’s quiet demeanor, as he would usually have a bigger reaction to these types of things, Johnny stops laughing and gives Mark that sad, puppy-eyed look that kinda makes it hard to concentrate on eating his scrambled eggs.

“Did you get it?” Johnny asks in English. “It sounds the same, you know, like the actual word.”

Mark gives him a weak smile. “Yeah, I got it the first time, hyung.”

The sad puppy eyes never leave, and it looks like Johnny is about to say something more, but then Donghyuck is smacking his shoulder because Sicheng had apparently uttered another unintentional swear word, much to everyone’s delight. Mark lets out a laugh in spite of himself, but he couldn’t help but notice Johnny’s knees are touching his own underneath the kitchen table, making his legs tingle from the contact. It scares him, almost, and he just wants to get up and _move_.

This is stupid.

Mark stares at the steam that’s building up in the bathroom. It becomes foggier and foggier until he can’t see what’s in front of him, or, at least, until it turns his skin pink. He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower to begin changing back into his clothes.

In the rare occurrence where an empty schedule caused the dorm to be full, the only solace one can really have is the bathroom; it's why he likes taking long showers, for the most part. Especially since his room is currently occupied with Johnny and Doyoung discussing possible weekend plans since they now had time for personal activities.

But just because he has the space all to himself doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to focus, though, and Mark tries to drown out the background noise of some of the members being rowdy in the living room and Jaehyun (it was probably, most likely Jaehyun) singing in the kitchen as he helps Taeyong prepare dinner.

A muffled “Where's the charger?” reverberates through the bathroom door. Donghyuck.

There’s some shuffling in the hallway followed by incoherent mumbling.

“I don't know, I think Yuta-hyung has it.” Sicheng.

“I just checked though!”

“Are you sure–”

Jesus. Mark breathes out and opens his eyes. There isn’t any point to try and clear his mind now, not when all he can think is _it’s in Taeyong-hyung’s room_ as he towels his wet hair in frustration. It’s quite pathetic, honestly. He’s acting like the teenager he is, not knowing what to do when _feelings_ suddenly dumped its baggage at his front door and left without an answer.

And the scary thing is that it isn’t even unrequited. Everything just feels weird and surreal and terrible.

“Stop it,” he tells his blurry reflection. It only looks at him with a deep frown in response.

When he finally stops wallowing in self-pity, he steps outside and nearly runs into Donghyuck, who pounces into the bathroom.

“Is the DS charger in there?” The younger pokes his head over Mark’s shoulder to inspect the countertop. Mark is about to reply with the actual location before deciding against it. He’s feeling a bit mean today.

“No clue,” he answers, shuffling to the kitchen to see what Taeyong and Jaehyun are making.

“My DS is gonna die, I'm gonna lose my progress!” Donghyuck bemoans, arms flopping to his side. Mark only shrugs as he turns to look over Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Kimchi jiggae?” he exclaims in surprise. “Again?”

“Yep,” Jaehyun answers, humming as he chops the green onions into fine pieces. The pot is bubbling red, bits of tofu and meat bobbing up in the concoction. Taeyong raises an eyebrow as he occasionally stirs the pot.

“Is there a problem with that?” he questions.

Mark winces. “I mean, it’s just that we had it last week. And the week before that–”

“Mark, unless you get better at cooking, you _will_ eat this tonight,” Taeyong interrupts.

Jaehyun lets out a belting laugh as Mark sputters out an apology.

Doyoung has this annoying habit of noticing every little detail about everyone, so Mark prepares himself mentally when the older corners him in the dressing room after their interview with an editorial magazine that they had in the morning.

“I thought you were gonna murder the interviewer with how hard you were staring,” he accuses. “You were frowning a lot.”

Mark blinks. “I was? I’m fine, though.”

Doyoung makes an obnoxious _tsktsk_ noise like the middle-aged woman he is at heart. “I just commented on your face, not your feelings. What’s wrong? Wait, unless it’s because–“

His eyes widen, looking like a panicked rabbit as his gaze shoots over to where the others hover over the complimentary snacks table. Mark purses his lips.

“Hyung, _really_ ,” he emphasizes. “I'm fine.”

Doyoung huffs. “He mentioned you like three times, you know,” he brings up suddenly. “When we were talking about where to go last week.”

“What?”

“And he got that look in his eyes,” Doyoung continues, waving his hands in the air. “Like, fond. I think it’ll just take time, Mark-yah, and everything will be alright in the end.”

Alright, Mark thinks, eyes flitting over to the others, to the slight curve of Johnny’s lips as they quirk up to smile at something one of the staff members is saying. _It’ll be alright._

“What's a three-letter word for heartache?”

An hour into practice and, naturally, Donghyuck had found yet another mindless phone game to preoccupy himself with whenever they had a break. This time it’s a word puzzle, apparently.

Mark contemplates as he imagines too warm eyes with too little sincerity before saying, “Heart hurts?”

Donghyuck pauses to type in the answer before shaking his head. “Nope, didn't work.”

“Try Dong Sicheng,” Yuta interjects from his position on the practice room floor.

“What does that mean?” Sicheng asks innocently, settling down next to the other with two water bottles in hand. He hands one of them to Yuta, who suddenly becomes the definition of enamored as he rests his head on Sicheng’s thigh.

“Just kidding,” Yuta responds lightly. He then begins to explain something about _the different interpretations of love_ to which Sicheng immediately becomes absorbed in. Mark is seconds away from vomiting at such a sight while Jaehyun and Doyoung laugh wholeheartedly at the exchange.

“You guys are no help,” Donghyuck proclaims. Mark watches as he shuffles over to Johnny, who’s on the floor stretching his legs.

“Three more minutes,” their choreographer announces from the corner of the room.

Taeil suddenly appears by Mark’s side and joins him sitting on the floor. “What do you want for dinner? It’s your turn to pick.”

“Hm?” His eyes are fixed on a certain corner of the room. Johnny is leaning over Donghyuck’s shoulder, and Mark faintly hears him say, “Maybe it’s not a literal definition, Hyuck-ah, try nostalgic.”

He turns away. There’s something strange about seeing how comfortable everything on the surface seems, and Mark feels like the odd one out because he’s the one wishing for something to happen. For someone to look in his direction. For arms to wrap around him when he can’t sleep. Yeah.

“Mark?”

Turning his attention back to Taeil, who is looking at him expectantly, he blurts out, “Kimchi jjigae?”

Taeyong overhears this and is positively scandalized. “Are you kidding–”

Donghyuck lets out a shout. “I got it!” he declares. When everyone turns to look at him, he holds up his phone proudly. “It was ‘first love.’”

The choreographer claps his hands to bring attention back to him now. “Alright, everyone, let's go over the first part of the song again.”

Usually, when they perform, Mark is pretty good at keeping himself and the others in check on stage. It’s like he’s on autopilot, which was usually on rather than off.

So it comes as a surprise when he finds himself stumbling and suddenly falling face forward during the run-through for one of their performances in Japan. The main coordinator stops the production crew and shouts for the on-call nurse, who immediately guides him over to a makeshift cot backstage.

“Fuck,” he grits out, clutching his stomach.

The nurse who is currently attending to him flinches causing him to apologize immediately. He rarely swears, but it’s hard not to when another wave of nausea grips him into a cold sweat. Evidently, his fever from a few weeks earlier never went away, and he wills the fluorescent lights to stop spinning as he lies down on the cot and brings an arm over his eyes to block them out.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He shifts his arm up, and Taeyong’s face appears, hovering above him. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than ever due to the harsh lighting and lack of concealer, though Mark is sure he doesn’t look much better himself.

“No,” he answers timidly.

“Donghyuck isn't feeling good either, he's in the bathroom right now,” Yuta declares, walking up to Taeyong with a worried look on his face.

Their leader sucks in his breath through his teeth. “Well. I don't know what management will say, but I personally think you two shouldn’t perform tonight.”

At this, Mark’s mouth goes dry, and he props himself up onto his elbows. “No, it’s fine, I'm okay.”

The two of them share an unconvinced look. Taeyong shakes his head and mentions something about needing to take care of himself whereas Yuta hesitantly reminds him of the last time he had an accident and _did you know how scared I was seeing my dongsaeng in the hospital?_

“Okay,” Mark concedes. “I'll rest and join you guys later.”

The pair leave to continue run-throughs because _the show must go on_ as they say, and he’s left with nagging anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach. Donghyuck joins him a few minutes later, nursing a wet towel on his forehead and wearing a miserable expression.

“I hate this,” he grumbles. “I didn’t ask to be sick.” He settles on the sofa across from Mark with a huff and stretches his legs up onto the armrest portion of it.

“I don't think either of us did,” Mark responds gloomily.

Donghyuck only closes his eyes and announces, “I'm gonna take a nap.”

Soon, light snores were coming from Donghyuck’s side of the room. Mark stays on the cot for at least twenty minutes aimlessly scrolling through his phone before he becomes too antsy and decides to get up and out of the room, ignoring the protests of one of the staff members.

Sitting down and truly experiencing how big the stage is was completely different than being up there and performing. It’s odd how comfortable he was with the vastness of it, how minuscule they must look to their fans, but still finding a way to connect despite the distance. A heaviness settles in his heart when he realizes he might not be able to give them that connection tonight.

From the corner of his eye, he sees that Johnny is ambling up to him with a bottle of water. “Here,” he says.

Mark thanks him as he takes the cold drink that’s being pressed into his hand, and they sit in silence, listening to the crew members fumble around with the stage lighting before Mark speaks up.

“They're gonna be disappointed, aren't they?” he murmurs, voice low. Even though his stomach is still churning, he uncaps the water bottle and takes a sip, cooling his parched throat after hours of practice.

“You already have so much to worry about that you haven’t been resting,” Johnny comments. “I think they would be happier knowing that you’re taking a break.”

“But it’s what I’m supposed to be doing,” Mark explains restlessly, fingers sliding over the condensation that had built up on the side of the water bottle. “It’s... what I was _meant_ to be doing.”

Johnny’s eyes soften. “Mark, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

From where they’re sitting, the sides of their arms are touching and there’s the soft brush of a leg against his and all Mark can think is, of course, it’s Johnny. It was _always_ Johnny. And right now, he’s looking at Mark like how he did that night on the balcony, eyes filled with words that were never spoken. Things he should’ve said.

They stay like that for a while, warm breeze filling in the gaps between them.

“Have you seen the cat?”

“The what?”

“Cat,” Taeyong repeats. There’s a can of tuna in his hand and a small mouse toy in the other. Mark looks between the two items before giving their leader an incredulous stare.

“Since when did we get a cat?”

“Since last month,” he answers matter-of-factly.

It’s August, now, and the late summer heat beats down his back as Mark follows Taeyong to the terrace. It’s gotten quite unkempt since they rarely used it, green grass poking through the concrete slabs as Taeyong places the tuna on the ground and shakes the mouse toy, probably in hopes of getting the cat’s attention.

“ _Aish_ , she usually comes when she hears the bell,” he mutters.

“I never noticed,” Mark wonders. “When did you adopt her?”

“Technically she’s a stray,” Taeyong clarifies, eyes squinting as he looks around. “But I named her Yuyu.”

“What?” Mark laughs. “Like Yuta-hyung?”

Before Taeyong can reply, a rustling in the bushes draws their attention as a slim, calico cat appears from the leaves. It immediately sidles up to Taeyong, purring loudly when he rubs its head. Mark hesitantly reaches his hand out and lets Yuyu sniff it before she’s marking his hand with a head butt, causing him to smile.

“Wow, I think you’re the first one she’s let pet her,” Taeyong marvels. “I brought Jaehyun last time, and she wouldn’t come near him.”

“Ah, really?” Mark muses, watching Yuyu keen under his touch. He’s never been too good with animals, so it makes him feel a little proud. As he retracts his hand back to his side and watches Yuyu bat at the mouse toy that Taeyong had brought, a thought occurs to him.

“Sometimes I wish I was a cat,” he blurts out.

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Like, life would be so easy. You just nap and eat all day. You don’t have any responsibilities, and like, you can just do your own thing. And… and you don’t have to worry about other p-people.”

Mark stutters at the end, as suddenly, an overwhelming wave of emotion washes over him, the kind where he needs to tell someone about what he’s been going through. The late nights spent on overanalyzing what a glance or a touch could mean. On wondering about all the possibilities in the world and what was already meant to happen in his life.

“Mark?” Taeyong asks softly. “Are you okay?”

Mark shakes his head, bringing himself back into reality. “Uh, yeah, sorry, I was thinking about weird things.”

Taeyong nods in understanding as he fondly watches Yuyu slink her way to the can of tuna.

“Well, cats definitely care about people,” he remarks. “They just show it in a way we might not understand. Love takes time, after all, even for humans.”

Mark stares at his hyung’s thoughtful expression for a moment before turning his gaze to the center of the terrace.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Love definitely takes time.”

With the upcoming comeback hanging over his head like some sort of weight just waiting to be dropped, Mark spends most, if not all, of his time practicing and spending late nights in the studio.

But the thing about having all this time to himself means that, eventually, his mind would go back to that night, where his heart raced as he debated on whether he should kiss his hyung and the surprised expression that followed when he did. When Johnny had replied with _we should wait,_ to his _I like you, hyung_ , and how Mark had run through all the possibilities and doubts that could happen in that period of _wait, Mark, just wait_ –

God, this is so stupid. Mark leans away from the computer screen and rubs his eyes with the pads of his fingers. He needs a break, badly. Shutting the lights off, Mark heads down the hallway of the recording studio to go back to the dorm.

When he arrives, he nearly screams when Donghyuck suddenly opens the door to the bathroom as he passes by it. The other’s hair is damp from the shower, and they both look at each other for a moment before Donghyuck speaks up.

“Johnny-hyung was waiting for you to come home last night,” Donghyuck states bluntly.

Mark looks at the other, baffled. “What?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don't know, he wanted to talk about something with you.”

His mouth goes dry. “Okay. Did he say anything else?”

The younger shakes his head. “Nope. Also, it's almost 5 a.m. and I don't think you've even showered since last night.” He sniffs the air around Mark and makes a face. “Yeah, definitely no shower. We have to be ready by 10 today, so don’t oversleep in the car!”

Donghyuck heads off to the bedrooms to wake up the other members so they could get ready to be transported for hair and makeup around 8, leaving Mark to think about how he can avoid Johnny for the next few hours.

But as it turns out, ignoring the person you like who also liked you back was bound to backfire eventually, as all bad ideas will.

He’s at the dance studio again, music blaring from his speakers. The thing was at least four years old, but he felt like he’s had it since forever as it was the only thing that kept him company during the long nights he stayed up to practice. As he’s caught up in the motions, Mark hadn’t noticed the door opening, and when he finally looks up, his expression must’ve been frightening enough for Johnny to ask,

“Wait, are you busy?”

“No.” And it pains Mark to say the following. “We can talk.”

Johnny visibly loosens his shoulders in relief. “Okay.”

The music is still going, but Mark shuts it off. They stand in silence for a moment before Johnny speaks up.

“Look, Mark,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck in exhaustion. “I know things are kind of weird between us, and I wanted to–”

“I'm tired,” Mark interjects. The heaviness in his voice must have been enough for Johnny to stop and look at him properly, but all he can think is,

Hyung, this is so _stupid_. You said everything will be fine and _what can go wrong_ , but what if, maybe, we were just meant to happen with other people? Even though Taeyong-hyung said that love takes time, it’s been months and what am I even _supposed_ to do when it turns into years? Hyung, would you still like me, even then?

“Hey, Mark...”

The older reaches out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Mark’s own hands are shaking, so he fists them in the pocket of his hoodie.

“I just– I just don’t think you know how unfair you’re being,” he stammers, pointedly looking away from Johnny to stare at his scuffed converse. His entire body is screaming for him to get up and _move_ , but his feet stay firmly planted onto the ground.

Johnny bites his lower lip, contemplating. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I regretted what happened,” he apologizes. “If anything, I was a little scared? Because I thought it would be better for us if you were a little older and see what happens.”

“But I’m old enough now, aren’t I?” Mark exclaims exasperatedly.

“I know," Johnny says, and he just looks so tired, too, with the way his eyes are getting sad and puppy-eyed again as he _hesitates_. 

“Hyung," he pleads. "We can always _try_.”

The older's composure seems to break when his mouth finally parts open to say _something_ , and Mark's feet move forward to tug at Johnny's hoodie to pull him closer, arms wrapping around his waist until Mark feels Johnny sigh against him and the familiar pressure of Johnny's arms around his body. He buries his face into the taller's shoulder and here, his heart becomes so full.

“Okay,” Johnny confirms, threading his fingers through Mark's hair. “Okay, so we’ll try, then. No more waiting.”

He looks down to smile warmly, and even after all these years it never fails to make Mark’s stomach turn upside down with butterflies, as cliché as it is. For the first time in months, Mark beams and hugs Johnny twice as hard, as if he was never letting go.

Doyoung was right, Mark thinks when Johnny finally, _finally_ , leans down to press his lips against his. _Everything will be alright in the end._

(“So did you actually smell my neck that one time?”

“... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” )

**Author's Note:**

> First post 'ㅂ' I have a lot of other johnmark fics drafted up but I'm still procrastinating even in this quarantine l o l  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/yutavlys)


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